that she was sure her breast would reach right out and nudge him in invitation, as he drew a teasingly delicate line slowly up the back of her firm leg.
And oh, the musk and the lily scent of her, the maddening way her small, perky breasts brushed at his upper earlobe. His hand was on the small of her back to steady himself, his fingers crying in exultation at the smoothness of her sheathe, while his other hand trembled yet kept mostly steady the pencil that left that garish line on her skin, her skin, which he fingers did indulge themselves with.
Then she made the mistake of shifting her delicate weight, to battle the heat of the moment. When the flesh under Harvards hand tensed, she stood up abruptly. Leslie smiled as guiltily as her distracted mind would let her, ready for the light scolding of perhaps having messed up the line from moving. Instead, Harvards pale eyes glittering, he flung the pencil away over his shoulder and took to a rough, manic handling of her dress and its contents. Leslie awoke somehow to it, mimicking her favorite film stars, eyes wide and mouth slack and face too available. Harvards kiss came down upon her neck with a will that extracted a small cry from her, and the pretty sounds did not stop from that point on.
Harvard was less than mindful of her dress, and he had managed to get it tight around her waist. Pale pink nipples showed, and Harvard smashed his mouth there immediately, sucking all of her breasts in and causing her to thrash. A metal table pressed with a shocking coolness into the backs of her legs, while the wool material, working thigh muscles and overly discernable organ of unyielding stiffness that was the front of below-Harvards-waist beckoned with sinful clarity. Leslie threw her head back, fighting her instinct to fight off his advances with every moment a reward for her patience, and then her body decided it really wanted her leg around his lovely waist. The leg obeyed the order, pressing her mostly back so that the table took most of her weight.
The flash of thigh rising in his periphery vision caused a bucking to start up in Harvards thighs, and the deprived pleasure from the bucking had it continue. The pleasure was not nearly so deprived to Leslie, who opened her mouth in a big O and bucked back, reaching a conclusion she had never trusted so strongly to be on its way. Wave after wave of pleasure rushed through her, and the pretty noises followed, tangled with the lowing sounds that Harvard made. Although he couldnt understand it, he knew that Leslie wanted him not to change what he was doing yet, so he swallowed his frustration and bucked harder. Metal was clanking on the floor, its dry scent and the heavy odor of ink drowned in the smell of Leslie and her sodden panties, which were being shredded by friction with the

fiber of Harvards suddenly constricting woolen trousers. Leslie had let go with one hand of Harvards neck, and grabbed at her own breasts violently, her hips working at their shared friction faster than a cog on a train pumps. He watched with slowly tunneling vision as her grinding changed abruptly from fast to painfully hard and much slower, a high moan escaping from Leslie as her body pulsed and convulsed and throbbed in pleasure, down to her fingertips. The dots from her vision hadnt even cleared when the toughness of bare wool was replaced by stone-smoothness of skin, and was quickly followed by a sharp pain. Leslie jumped away instinctively from the pain, but Harvard commanded her hips with his hand and unflinchingly dug deeply into her molten center. The moan from Leslie was of pain now, but a grateful pain, and she threw her arms around his neck once more, this time setting her teeth against his shoulders to weather the discomfort. Harvard hadnt the capacity for sympathy, and when she pulled away a little again, he drove in until there was no farther to go.
His hips thrust mechanically to a wild rhythmless abandon, obscene pleasure soaking in from every stolen inch of Leslies walls. Leslie herself was back to bouncing against him, stopping to work against him like she had before at intervals when pleasure made ready to steal her soul again. Harvard was panting though it all, Leslies twisting, writhing acceptance of his needs, her clawing, her moving away when he shoved too roughly, too deeply. In a sweeping rush of impatience he let her hips go for a moment to pull her one grounded leg up and land her on her back on the cool table. On top of her in a flash, Harvard hadnt a single barrier, and bellowed his joy and love right into her moaning mouth. Leslies body absorbed the pain of Harvards deep-diving abandon, her muscles clenching to meet the rapidity of his internal assaults until their own frenzy sent Leslie screaming right over the edge toward dot-vision land again. The when the soft, wet walls around Harvards organ began to pull and suck on him so fast, and so insistently, his own finish came tearing out of him and pouring into her, along with his seed, his secrets, his hopes, his fears, and every bit of tension he had felt in the last eleven weeks.
There was silence at last.
Leslie giggled weakly, anxious to be in a more compromising position, while half of her body wanted to wrap around him and never let go. Harvard realized he had just had his way with this lovely young woman, and scrambled off of her as it she had been a panicked rabbit instead. After a moment of shuffling and hurried grunts and sighs, they were reasonably dressed. The sweat had cleansed their bodies of inked airs, but Harvard was more than happy to reapply for Leslie, and even did her the honor of staying